Founding Home
by peace and joyce
Summary: Hogwarts will always be home to the Founders, but they had to build it first...
1. Chapter 1

They never spoke of Salazar. To the tenants of his land they whispered only, in their taverns and cottages, _"Lord Slytherin" _and left it at that.

He was a strange landlord. Whenever he rode out onto his lands to inspect the crop, or into the local breweries and taverns, always he would be dressed in the finest jewels and flowing robes, never appearing in either more than once. Both would also be of the best cut and colour.

But such finery was not what gained him attention, even in the mudstained smock world of the peasantry. No, there was something else about their Lord Slytherin. They saw it in his electric gaze, the way he seemed to know everything, almost as if he could see into your head. They saw it in his smooth, sly movements, his voice that always spoke so slowly, like a cat toying with a mouse. They saw it in his very appearance, his way of effortlessly commanding attention, even respect. Few did not know, but none dared say the word. Magic.

For witchcraft and wizardry was not permitted in their world. Forbidden, in fact. None dared question Slytherin, and there was little evidence. But all could sense. If the neighbouring lord's fields were more luscious than his, the crop better tended or more plentiful, Slytherin would grow jealous of the rival, and retreat into the room of his palace (Slytherin Hall) known as the Emerald Chamber "of Greate Secrycies". He would mutter words, strange words that only he could understand. And then mysterious things would set to work at the rival's fields. Tools would break. Peasants would fall ill- not dangerously, but too ill to work. Too much rain would fall- but only on the rival's land, and the crop would be ruined for that year. Winds would scatter seeds out of line, and it would be a terrible setback for the harvest.

Green. Such a fine, rich colour. The colour of luck, the colour of envy.

It was his finest, the money chest made of dark mahogany, the lid coated with emerald green snakeskin. Inside were the true profits of magic: Salazar may not be as popular as Sir Godric of Gryffindor Manor (whose feats of bravery and valour Slytherin scoffed at as a waste of time) but he was powerful and he was rich, the richest for miles.

A servant in emerald green livery announced that Lady Ravenclaw was here to see him, and Salazar slid his hand protectively over his money chest.

Lady Ravenclaw, resplendent in her jewelled diadem and heavily pregnant, stood serenely at the door. She quirked her eyes at his money box, as though she understood exactly what was going o9n. Slytherin gave a courtier's smile and a courtier's bow: affable but entirely self-serving.

"Lady Ravenclaw," he said as sweetly as if his voice dripped honey.

"Rowena," she said back, shrugging.

"Lady Ravenclaw" he corrected her. "I trust you are well?"

"Very well, my Lord. I am in good health; and my interest in the liberal arts has gained me much knowledge."

"How wonderful, fair Muse. And you are continuing with your renovations of Ravenclaw Castle?"

"Yes. I have plans for a fine new tower to my Scottish residence. It shall be grand, and will extend into the heavens, with a good place for watching the stars and gaining much from them."

"I understand that Sir Godric intends to build his own castle in Scotland."

"Really? I would not believe that he would have the time to, in between dragon hunts."

"Dragon hunts? I thought he'd got bored of slaying dragons and was chasing giants around the place now."

"No, he stopped giant hunting long ago. It's back to dragons now. But either way, it is insignificant. He's always off on some quest or another. It's a wonder that Gryffindor Manor is still standing."

They were interrupted by the manager of the Slytherin estates, a portly Muggle terrified of his master.

"My Lord" he said. "I have a matter of most importance to inform you of. There is a woman, a poor woman, who works on your land, who has been found guilty of giving out potions to the sick without permission. We thought she was- a witch, but she denies both black magic and ill-wishing."

"Bring her forth." Slytherin ordered.

The man obeyed, and a young woman in a simple yellowish dress and black jerkin came into the room.

"And your name, Mistress?" demanded Slytherin.

"Helga, Master," said she "Helga Hufflepuff."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Not very old-timey language... oh well.**

"And _what _were you doing selling illegal potions on _my _lands?!" Salazar erupted.

"I weren't selling them."

"Oh, bartering, trading I care nothing for what you peasants call it!"

"I weren't bartering them neither."

"Then what _were _you doing with them?"

"I was giving them."

Slytherin rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"_I were giving them._ Oh, because you _have to_ because you're a _witch_, I suppose?"

Helga looked up, without defiance but with honesty.

"Because I am a human being."

Salazar wrung his ringed fingers with frustration.

"Calm yourself Salazar. What we have to do is-"

But Lady Ravenclaw was interrupted when, unannounced, Godric Gryffindor came striding into the room, still in his armour and, despite being covered in dragon blood, devastatingly handsome.

"Greetings, lord- and ladies" he said, bowing to Helga and Rowena in turn. The former smiled and the latter hard put not to. "What have I missed, Salazar?"

"Lord _Slytherin_" said Salazar pointedly. "Not much. I am enforcing law and order on my lands. Mistress Hufflepuff has been found guilty of dealing with potions to the sick on my lands- _without _my permission."

"Have you? Well done!" Gryffindor gave a salute to Hufflepuff, much to Salazar's further annoyance.

The two had never really bonded.

Godric pulled a chair and gestured for Helga to sit down, while drawing a modest stool for himself.

"I don't see the problem Salazar" he continued. "Let the dame do as she pleases, save yourself the graves of many peasants every year."

"Be that as it may" said Slytherin, eyes narrowing. "Consider yourself most fortunate, wench" he said threateningly.

It was sunset when at last Helga returned to her cottage to eight noisy children.

"Mama! Mama!" They chorused, illuminated by the poor light of a tallow candle.

"Darlings, our hope is restored."

And as she sat down to a meal of bread and cheese, she felt grateful to Godric Gryffindor.


	3. Chapter 3

The game was tender, with just a hint of spice. The sweetmeats were soft and the bread was fresh. And the echo of the clinking goblets reflected in the laughing caverns of Slytherin's soul.

He shot a smug smile at Gryffindor. _See Lion Head_ his eyes seemed to say _this is how the big guys throw parties. None of this sharing broth and water with the local peasants nonsense._

Noticing Slytherin's imperial expression, Gryffindor called the table to attention.

"I say we summon the cook from the kitchens, and all propose a toast!"

Slytherin groaned. "I say we don't."

But Rowena Ravenclaw, sitting further down the table, countered him. "I say we do."

Slytherin scowled at her with a sort of _you agree with HIM?_ face.

Gryffindor beamed around the room, looking even more like a lion than usual.

"That's settled then. Summon the cook!"

"You called me, sir?" Helga Hufflepuff's tone was inquisitive.

Slytherin groaned. "Not you again," he mumbled into his ringed fingers.

Helga raised her eyebrows. "Looks like someone didn't digest the pigeon properly."

"Mutton, _actually_," he snapped back.

"Anyway," Godric interrupted the two, as Helga opened her mouth to say something back.

"Salazar, she has spent hours toiling over this feast. She makes all of this lovely food for all of us here, yet many like her struggle with famine and plague. You trust her around your valuables, do you not, Salazar? Even though a single chest of yours would feed a village, she has never taken a penny more than you have deemed to give her; no matter the temptation- is not her help worth more to you than gold?"

Slytherin wasn't so sure, but the expectant looks of his guests finally compelled him to act. Sighing, he left the dining room with an apology and opened a door that led to his chambers. He looked over his chests and treasuries. Surely there was something he could miss? A single coin seemed a bit paltry, and the mutton was actually _very _good...

He spotted it, and right away knew that that would be his gift.

It was a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles. One the front was engraved a badger, embellished by only a few small jewels. He'd never liked it much, believing snakes to be more elegant (and less of a pest) and it didn't really match all of his fine polished silver. Yes, he could let it go.

"Here," he gave her the cup. "In credit of your hard work."

Helga's eyes lit up when she saw the gift and she gave a deep curtsey, cradling the cup in her hands. Never in all of her life had she dreamed she would ever receive such a gift. And from Salazar Slytherin of all people! Mayhap, she thought, she had judged him unfairly. She decided to give him another chance.

"Do not dare to sell it," he said warningly.

"Never sire," she held it up to the light to see the badger closer," It shall make a most fantastic plant pot."

_"What?"_ He screamed. "My finery- used to hold common vegetation-!"

"Jest." She teased.

"Oh." He sat down, almost regretting his generosity.


	4. Chapter 4

_Three Months Later_

Tenderly, Helga lifted the baby out of her cradle and carried her across the room to where an exhausted Lady Ravenclaw lay in her four-poster bed. With a weary smile, Rowena received her daughter. The baby opened her eyes and blinked several times, her dark eyes like beads in between the layers of swaddling bands. Helga looked on fondly.

"She is the loveliest little thing," she said, stroking the baby's head.

"Do you think she is-"

"One of us?"

" she?"

"I cannot tell for the present. If she does possess- _certain gifts_, they should reveal themselves after seven summers, though I have heard tell of children who revealed - their _abilities_ before that time. "

Rowena turned from Helga back to the child. "I hope that she is- like me, being my firstborn. However at the same time I wish that she is not. We live in a new world, a beautiful world, a world of new discoveries. Everyday I learn more, things I could never have dreamed of. It is a journey like no other.

But everyday, I am frightened. I ride out and see hangings, burnings, duckings in almost every village. I see the fear; and I see that hatred that stems from that. Fear is spreading faster than the plague; and the cure is scarcer. I can learn all the arts that I wish, I can practice and revel in my discoveries but all the power in the world cannot combat the fear that hangs over me."

"Only strength of character can do that."

Rowena snapped out of her melancholy musings and turned to Helga who retreated into the corner, head bowed.

"Beg pardon madam, meant no impudence."

"You are right, Helga."

Helga looked up and smiled.

"I most earnestly hope so, my lady."

Rowena looked at her baby; and then back at Helga. It felt- how to say it- as if a line had been crossed. Helga was more than a servant now, she had shared a private and important moment of her life with her. Slytherin was right when he had said that her midwife should be "nobody but the very best." (But as with all of his compliments one could never be sure who he was complimenting- Helga for her virtues or himself for hiring "the very best.")

So it was with a sincerity that was very real, when Lady Ravenclaw looked her in the eye; and said:

"Rowena."


End file.
